Revenge Is Sour
by skyblue
Summary: This is my second HP fic. I think it's quite HP style, but what do you think? Please r/r.


Revenge Is Sour

Arthur Weasley leant against his desk, and stared at the picture on the opposite wall – it was the one that had been of his family for the Daily Prophet, in Egypt last summer. Memories flooded back to him, as he remembered the scream of Mrs Weasley when he announced to her that they had won the Annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw; the family had spent fantastic month in Egypt; a well needed break for them all. He swallowed as he wondered whether he would ever see his six sons, one daughter and wife again after this night. Then he pulled himself together, pulled his robes round him, and walked out of the office. As he walked along the corridor to the exit, many of the other workers at the Ministry of Magic came up to him.

"Good luck, Sir. You have my full support."

"You show that scumbag what you're made of!"

"I'll see you tonight at the house, Sir." Mr Weasley nodded in appreciation to his colleagues, and was just about to open the door, when a small man in an orange and lime green pinstriped cloak put his hand on Mr Weasley's shoulder.

"Arthur, I just wanted to say a few words about tonight." Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, steered Mr Weasley into a small office off the corridor, and adjusted his cloak, looking nervous. "I hope you know how serious this operation will be, Arthur. It'll be no easy job, and there are very serious risks involved."

"I do understand, Sir, but the whole Ministry's been trying to get something on Lucius Malfoy since you-know-who disappeared. I think tonight's the night, Sir. I do realise the risks, but someone needs to do this."

Fudge swallowed. "I'm glad the Ministry has someone as dedicated as you in it. I wish you the greatest of luck, and you know that that Hit Wizards will be waiting outside if you need their help."

"Thank you, Sir. I'll report to you first thing tomorrow morning with the news of the raid." Mr Weasley nodded to the Minister, left the building, and set off for The Burrow. 

*

After Apparating home, Mr Weasley appeared outside the door, and a small red-headed figure threw herself at him. "Ginny!"

"Hi Dad, good day at work? Mum's in a really bad mood 'cos Fred and George put a Shrinking Spell on Percy's new robes – you know, the ones Mum got him in Diagon Alley last week for getting promoted – well anyway, Percy keeps putting them on and walking round the house in them, showing them off, and today he was trying to take them off and they kept shrinking, so they got stuck round his head! It was ever so funny, you should have seen it! Percy was furious; it took him about half an hour to get them off, because his wand got stuck in the robe pocket (the pocket shrunk as well!" Ginny grinned, and dragged Mr Weasley into the house. 

Molly Weasley was making dinner. Well, she was actually waving her wand at a loaf of bread and some cheese; the cheese was cutting itself, landing on the bread, and the bread was flying over to the fire to cook. Percy was sitting by the fire reading a book entitled 'The Revision Guide to HAGs', and Ron was explaining what HAGs were to Harry, who had been staying at The Burrow that summer ("Oh, HAGs stand for Horribly Advanced Grades; they're what you do after you've left school -Percy's doing seven or something – you're only meant to do three. I bet Hermione'll do more than that, if she possibly can!" "Oh, so a bit like a degree, that's what you can do in the Muggle world."). The last two Weasleys in the house were Fred and George; they were sitting in the corner of the kitchen, discussing what else they could do to Percy's robes to annoy him.

Mr Weasley walked through the door, Ginny at his side, and greeted his family – "Hi Dad, did you hear what we did to Percy's robes, it was hysterical!" "Good evening, Father, how was your day – you did tell Mr Fletcher why I wasn't at work today, didn't you?" "Arthur, I'm so glad to see you, I've been worrying about you all today. You can't go to that place tonight, I won't let you." Mr Weasley sunk into his usual armchair, and smiled. He grinned and congratulated Fred and George, while trying to reprimand them under the eye of Mrs Weasley (no easy task); he informed Percy that Mr Fletcher was happy with Percy missing his first ever day at work; he waved at Harry and Ron over by the fireplace, and he convinced Mrs Weasley that his mind was made up about that night.

After a quick meal, Mr Weasley announced that he was about to leave: "Well, as Molly has told you, I'm visiting Lucius Malfoy's manor tonight. At the Ministry we have received news that many of You-Know-Who's old school items, and many illegal poisons are stored behind a bookcase in the drawing room of the manor. We've been wanting to arrest Lucius Malfoy for years for something, and this is our chance. I've volunteered to go, so that's where I'm off to now."

"Will it be dangerous, Dad?" asked Ginny.

"I hope not. Malfoy is not expecting the raid, so the element of surprise should mean that I get the proof I need, get the Hit Wizards in, and Malfoy will be under arrest by tomorrow morning." Mr Weasley said his goodbyes; Ginny and Mrs Weasley looked petrified, but he assured them that nothing would happen to him; Fred and George encouraged him to punch Mr Malfoy as much as he could, and Percy said that if anything happened to him, he would be proud to take over his job. Harry stood by the fire – he didn't want to get in the way of the family, but he wanted to say thankyou to Mr Weasley for all the help he had given Harry. Mr Weasley noticed him, however, and went over. "I'll see you tomorrow, Harry, ok?"

"I…I…I just wanted to say thankyou," Harry stammered, going red. "For letting me stay at The Burrow and everything…" Mr Weasley patted him affectionately on the head, grinned at his red-headed family, and walked out through the door.

*

It was half past one in the morning. Mr Weasley had just sorted out the signal he was to give out to the Hit Wizards, should he be in any trouble. They were going to wait just outside the Malfoy's manor, while Mr Weasley went inside. They had offered to go in with him, but Mr Weasley thought that, if ten Ministry of Magic Hit Wizards marched into the manor, Lucius was much more likely to turn nasty. No, he would go in and face him, man to man. 

He walked down the mossy path to the front door of the manor. The height of the door alone was about the height of the first floor back at the Burrow. Mr Weasley put his wand inside his robes – "Don't want to give the wrong impression and get off on the wrong foot," he thought to himself, as he knocked on the door. It swung open, to reveal a small figure wrapped in an old sheet. It was one of the Malfoy's many house elves. "I was wishing to speak with Mr Malfoy," he said, trying not to let his voice tremble. "He isn't expecting me."

"Well you're wrong there, actually," said an oily voice, and Mr Malfoy swept in front of the house elf, pushing her aside. "I've known that you would be coming this evening for about four days."

"Erm, good evening, Lucius. May I come in?"

"Of course, of course, where are my manners? Do go straight through to the drawing room, I'll be there in a minute." Mr Weasley followed the house elf into the drawing room. It was oak-panelled, with a very high ceiling, glass cabinets around the walls and a bookcase against the previous wall, presumably the bookcase behind which the poisons were stored. There was a fire on the right of the door through which Mr Weasley had just entered, but it had not been lit; in fact, the whole room was very cold, and Mr Weasley pulled his cloak tightly around him as he thought carefully about what he would say to Lucius Malfoy. Just as he was staring at a glass jar in a cabinet over the fireplace, Mr Malfoy walked into the room. "Admiring my pickled animals, are we, Arthur?" Mr Weasley's stomach gave a lurch and he made an indistinct noise in reply.

"Right, take a seat and you can tell me exactly why you called." Mr Weasley chose a leather-backed chair by the window, and Mr Malfoy chose one opposite him, next to a small oak table.

"Lucius, I'm not here on a social visit, which I'm sure you guessed. At the Ministry we have received the unfortunate and rather alarming news of a list of people storing You-Know-Who's old school items, and a number of highly dangerous and illegal poisons."

"But what's that got to do with me?" drawled Mr Malfoy.

"One of the people on the list……was you."

"Me? How absurd. I assume you've got your facts wrong, Arthur. I would never have anything illegal in my house – you know how I support the Ministry, and everything they do."

"Well, if you don't mind, Lucius, please let me check your house. If you're not hiding anything then you'll have no problem with me looking round, will you?" Mr Weasley looked carefully at Lucius Malfoy, but he couldn't tell what he was thinking – his pale, gaunt face was like a mask, giving away nothing.

"Are you saying that you won't take my word that I have nothing here? The word of Lucius Malfoy?" Mr Malfoy's eyes closed to slits, and he stared hard at Mr Weasley. It was so cold that there were white clouds of condensation as Lucius Malfoy breathed out.

Mr Weasley took a deep breath and stood up. "Mr Malfoy, I am under orders to check your property. I have reason to believe that you are hiding goods that belonged to You-Know-You. I must check your house."

Lucius Malfoy reached under the oak table next to his seat, then he stood up. "I know that you have more children than you can afford," he spat at Mr Weasley. "I also know that you consider filthy Mudbloods and Muggles more important than Wizards. However, I didn't think that you would accuse one of the finest Wizarding families in England of being in league with Voldemort." 

Mr Weasley stood up and faced Mr Malfoy. "Don't you dare insult my family," he said, his voice shaking with fury. "I came here to check your house, and you have stopped me from doing that. I know have even more reason to believe that you are hiding something in this manor. I can signal to the Hit Wizards waiting outside, and they will come in here and check your house with or without your permission. All I have to do is signal."

"I'm afraid it's too late for that." As Mr Weasley stared, uncomprehending, at Malfoy's face, as the door opened, and the house elf who had opened the door, walked in. He was carrying a purple and silver cushion, and on top of it was a shining metal black wand. "This is what Muggles call a gun. Since you seem to love Muggles so much, I think that you should die by a Muggle weapon."

Mr Weasley paled – he had been told about guns at work one day, and, despite being a Muggle weapon, there was no way that Wizards could block the curse or whatever it was that came out of it. "Lucius, what are you talking about," Mr Weasley said, laughing nervously. "No one is going to die – if you don't want me to check your house, we'll come back another time. Those Muggle weapons are dangerous, you don't understand."

Lucius laughed, evilly, madly. "Oh, I understand. More than you ever will. You and your colleagues at the Ministry of Magic have been extremely tiresome to me – always butting in where you're not needed, and spoiling you plans. Slightly like that brat, Harry Potter, who gets in the way whenever the Dark Lord is ready to some back to power." Mr Weasley reached inside his robes for his wand, but Mr Malfoy had yelled, "_Expelliarmus!_" The wand sailed into Malfoy's hand, and he called, "Draco, come here my boy."

Draco Malfoy, pale and drawn as his father, walked into the room. He kicked the house elf out of the door, closing it behind it, and picked up the gun which was lying on the cushion. He smirked as he stroked his hand along it, then passed it to his father. "So, you will die by a Muggle weapon, doing the job which you think is so brave and noble," sneered Mr Malfoy. "Why don't you just get down on your knees and beg?"

Mr Weasley stared straight at Mr Malfoy. "If I die now, I wish to die standing up to my enemies, not begging for mercy."

Mr Malfoy frowned, then drawled, "Still, no matter. Say goodbye to your family, you pathetic, Muggle-loving fool!" Mr Malfoy pointed the gun at Mr Weasley, and took aim, but suddenly the door opened, and a house elf appeared. 

"Please Sir, I was wondering if Mr Malfoy would be wanting a drink this evening, or if I am off-duty for the evening now, Sir."

Mr Malfoy threw the gun to the floor in his rage, and kicked the house elf out of the room. "NEVER DISTURB ME WITHOUT MY PERMISSION," he yelled at the unfortunate elf. "YOU WILL RECEIVE YOUR PUNISHMENT IN THE MORNING!" The poor elf's screams faded away, then Mr Malfoy marched back to the room where Draco was staring at Mr Weasley, and Mr Weasley……was holding the gun.

Mr Malfoy reached for the wands inside his robes, but too late – Mr Weasley had pulled the trigger. There was a huge yell of "Nooooooo," as Draco jumped in front of his father, the bullet struck, and he fell to the ground, dead. Mr Malfoy bent, aghast, over his son, who lay crumpled on the ground. Mr Weasley lowered the gun, staring horror-struck at the boy, his own son's age, lying on the ground. He had killed him.

*****


End file.
